


plans, best-laid

by bylass



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: 90 percent foreplay and banter, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Playful Sex, Post-Time Skip, byleth's thighs appreciation, i'm pretending the war stretched on longer than it did and they've been Together for awhile, strategy in claude's very messy room, they try to go to sleep and fail immediately
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-24 08:08:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20702696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bylass/pseuds/bylass
Summary: The war stretches on and so do the nights. Sometimes, good strategy just requires a little foreplay."You need to clean your bed.""Byleth, my love, star to my moon, half of these things areyours."





	plans, best-laid

**Author's Note:**

> I was simultaneously writing this along with my last chapter update and decided to finish this up (was there ever a hiatus? hard to say). I've had this very specific idea for awhile and I just... needed... to see it exist. I don't get to write smut often so this ship gets to have all the fun. In my [crack graph for categorizing kings](https://twitter.com/actualgina/status/1155590400632999936), Claude is a silly daddy but Byleth tops and this is how I roll with this archetype.
> 
> THE SETUP: I'm pretending the post-timeskip war actually lasts awhile instead of wrapping up in a game year. Imagine they've been together for a year, but they're only just hitting up Fort Merceus.
> 
> now let's get this (b)read!!

Fort Merceus was impregnable; in other words, a pain in the ass. Every detail Byleth learned of the place made attacking it seem like a worse idea. But there was no way around it, so she and Claude would spend every night researching the place if they had to.  
  
That particular night, they were burning their fourth candle as Byleth sat crosslegged on Claude's bed, hair tied up, glasses on, two charts in hand, quill behind her ear. Strewn around her was a mix of every kind of map possible: known layouts of the fort, topographical surveys, historic weather patterns of that area of the Empire. They needed every detail and no surprises for this battle.  
  
No surprises they didn't plan for, anyway.  
  
Head in her lap, Claude stared up at the ceiling as he twirled an arrow. He was getting heavy and warm, but she liked having the option of reaching down to play with his hair. It was soft when mussed, instead of slicked back like in the day; better than a Garreg Mach cat, even, which could be touchy depending on the one you caught. Claude only bit and scratched when asked. "The fort is surrounded by woods…" he mused. "Do you think Marianne could round us up a reserve army of woodland creatures? Sparrow spies? Is that a thing?"  
  
"We can put that in the _maybe_ column." Byleth tossed him the notebook of scribbled half-plans and her quill, which he immediately set to twirling in his other hand.  
  
"Come on, it's at _least_ on par with having me dress up as Edelgard." He searched around for the ink pot and found it under her leg. "Also—when we deliver the message to Fort Merceus about the incoming 'reinforcements', we should send Ignatz."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Look at his face, it's the face of an angel. You run into him in an alleyway, and you'd think he was looking for his lost pet, not about to paint you a picture in your own blood." True. "Also, he's not from a prominent Alliance family and usually hooded on the battlefield—least likely to get recognized."  
  
"I'll bring it up with him tomorrow."  
  
The room went silent again save for the scratching of the quill and the crinkle of paper. Pondering flight routes for the pegasus battalions, Byleth idly ran two fingers through Claude's hair, trailing from his neck to the crown of his head. A fond noise rumbled from him, until the quill stopped moving. He turned and kissed her thigh. It sparked a giggle from her; she couldn't help it—it tickled. His scruff scratched her leg as he kissed a little higher, then stared up, green eyes glimmering. Grinning lazily, he pulled her down for a sloppy kiss on the mouth, fitting their lips upside-down.  
  
"Hey," Byleth said, when they broke apart. "Focus."  
  
"It's too late to focus." He buried his face in her stomach.  
  
"If it were actually late, we'd be sleeping already."  
  
"Or doing other things." Skimming up her blouse—draped over a few inches of her bare legs at most—Claude nipped at the hem of her undies, and she could feel his devilish grin against her skin.  
  
"_Tch_." She flicked his ear. Together, they could scheme things to take down empires; together, they could also distract themselves silly like rabbits for a whole night if they weren't careful.  
  
Claude rose up on his elbows with that half-lidded-gaze-of-no-good; he wasn't the type to admit when he wanted something, which was probably why that look worked so well. He couldn't help but want her, couldn't help but make it obvious—at least in private. With a tug of his finger, he brought her mouth to his, tongue parting lips as if he were being sly. But maybe he was, because he'd been chewing her favorite berry and he tasted just like it, and the warmth of him was already luring her forward. She slid a hand under the collar of his thin undershirt, untangled her legs and shifted onto her knees—  
  
And promptly kicked into a stack of books, sending them clattering to the floor.  
  
"Urgh." Shaking off the shiver of her body, Byleth reached down to fix any squashed pages as Claude flopped back down pouting. At least she didn't knock over the ink pot. "You need to clean your bed."  
  
"Byleth, my love, star to my moon, half of these things are _yours_."  
  
A quick glance around his rumpled sheets told her that he might have been right. She spent more nights in Claude's room than hers lately. Strewn about were some clothes that needed washing, her notebooks, the board game she bought last week that she hadn't learned to play yet, one of her daggers, sheathed—and that didn't include everything she left elsewhere in his room. "Ah… I'll tidy up." She flushed.  
  
When she and Claude first started fooling around, they tried to keep it discreet. They'd just flown back from the roundtable conference in Riegan territory, where they had both realized: life was short, war was often lethal, and it was getting more distracting trying _not_ to kiss each other. A couple drinks, a bit too much teasing at Claude's childhood room, and a stumble into each other's arms later, there'd been no going back.  
  
But they were obvious from the outset, marked by the mint-colored hair on Claude's pillow (how Hilda found out), by Claude sleeping in late all of a sudden (how Lysithea and Leonie found out), and by the rosiness of their dispositions (how Marianne, Ignatz, and Raphael found out).  
  
(Lorenz had to be told.)  
  
They rarely discussed their relationship in solid terms, navigating on intuition instead—it wasn't as if Byleth had anything to compare it to, anyway—but the ease in which their lives melded together was… comforting in the uncertain fog of war.  
  
As she shuffled papers together and tossed anything reasonably shatterproof off Claude's bed, a yawn overtook her.  
  
"Wanna just sleep?" Claude was giving her an out, but it _was_ late. It hurt her eyes to focus on anything.  
  
"I think so."  
  
She loosed her ponytail, set her glasses on his desk, and blew out the candle. The distinct crunch of paper punctured her movements as she wriggled underneath the blanket Claude held open like a cape. Ah, well; those fort plans had been useless anyway.  
  
It got chilly under his thin blankets sometimes, but not cold enough to bring out the extra quilt, so she always slept curled around him or curled in him, not that Claude minded in the least. He tucked the blanket and his arm around her, grazing a hand along the divide between her belly and her blouse. Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he bid her a soft, "G'night."  
  
"Goodnight." Byleth tangled her fingers with his and snuggled into the crook of his arm, all archer muscle. "Don't let me sleep in, all right? Double-booked training… in the morning."  
  
"Mmm… we'll see."  
  
His breathing evened out, a tickle along her neck. He wasn't asleep yet, though; his hand brushed lower, feather-light over the dip between her legs. Not wanting for anything, just contentedly; he liked her curves and he liked her near. Even as exhaustion drifted over Byleth, she couldn't help shifting to press against that touch.  
  
His fingers woke at once. Started rubbing circles through the fabric. Biting her lip, Byleth stretched languidly against him. That bit of teasing never got old. Hand over his hand, she guided him to just the right spot and felt the twitch of him growing hard.  
  
"I thought," Claude murmured, husky and very much awake, "you wanted to sleep."  
  
She pressed harder. Just a bit more. "I do."  
  
"You're sending mixed signals here."  
  
"Fine." She tugged his hand away and yawned exaggeratedly as he groaned. They _should_ sleep.  
  
"My love, that's cruel." When she didn't budge, Claude sighed and pressed a kiss against her neck. "I'll let you sleep. I guess I'll just have to turn away to resist."  
  
And he did, taking the blankets with him.  
  
Byleth—cold, also very awake—sat up in an instant. She tugged for the blankets back but Claude held tight. He couldn't even hide his snickering well. With a growl, she grappled for a hold, but the one bed was small, and she didn't want to accidentally break it trying out a brawling move. It was too late for this.  
  
Unable to separate man from quilt, she rolled him over and straddled him.  
  
Claude had on a shit-eating grin. "Well, that's one way to convince me."  
  
She took her dagger that was stuffed in the side of his bed, unsheathed it, and aimed it at his neck with a dead-eyed stare. "Give back the blankets."  
  
His throat bobbed underneath. "Uh, I was angling for a _kiss_, but…"  
  
He tossed the blankets aside. Before Byleth could move off him though, Claude pulled her legs forward and held her there. She cocked her head, tilting his chin up with the tip of the blade. The moon was bright through the uncurtained sliver of window; his grin only glittered. Oh, he _liked_ it.  
  
Fuck it, they weren't sleeping that night.  
  
She bent down to kiss him, this time slow and deep, until he groaned in her mouth. Claude slid his hands up her thighs, warming them with the friction. He liked to say that she could kill a man with those thighs and that he was glad to be that man every time.   
  
"The death of me," he sighed, as he knocked the dagger aside to cup her face in his hands. Maybe it was a little late to play, but his dark pupils had long eclipsed the green of his eyes anyway, which were roving downwards to the wide open collar of her shirt. "A beautiful, beautiful death…"  
  
"If only Fort Merceus's defenses were as easy as yours," Byleth said with full fondness.  
  
"You are an _exceptional_ exception. And I can hold back from you, too, if I really wanted to."  
  
"Oh?" Wriggling off her undies and yanking down his pants partway, she seated herself further down over the hard length of him. Rocked back and forth without letting him slip inside, hands kneading at the fuzz on his stomach as her own wet made the movement slick.  
  
His attempt to kiss her got lost in a gasp. "I wouldn't—_bet_ on it—_Byleth_—"  
  
"Tell me your secrets,_ Your Highness_."  
  
Even in the dark, she could see Claude turn red. "_Not so loud_."  
  
"Speak for yourself," she said as he mumbled something incoherent, then stopped protesting altogether.  
  
(Though sometimes it was as if he _wanted_ people to know his identity. Claude told her before how he couldn't believe Cyril didn't recognize him.  
  
"Should he?" she had asked. "Is your face on the money?"  
  
"No… but _still_.")  
  
When Byleth had him huffing and puffing, slight whine in his throat, she slowed down. "I forgive you for having a weak spot. I suppose I'd be disappointed if you patched this particular one up."  
  
_Weak spot._ Her thoughts flitted to fortresses again.  
  
She only realized she froze completely when Claude broke through with a bemused, "Byleth? You can't stop there."  
  
"I remember this mention of a hidden tunnel in Fort Merceus…" She struck a match and relit the half-melted candle.  
  
Claude rubbed his eyes, still breathing unsteadily. "The one by the west gate or the one in the collapsed moat? Because they're both impassable now thanks to a quake about fifty years back—hey, _come back here_—"  
  
Byleth scrambled off his bed in a tidal wave of blankets and crushed papers. She shuffled through the books on the floor, a completely different excitement coursing through her. "No… I'm talking about the one under the northwest tower."  
  
Sitting up straight, Claude clambered from the bed just as quickly to search. "_What tunnel under the northwest tower?_"  
  
"The one in the… did you see the sketches of the revised schematics? There weren't many, it was… ah!" She flipped to the bookmarked page of an old sketchbook and held it up, along with one very crumpled map she'd been looking at earlier in the evening. "I think this right here... connects to this path over here. You see? If it goes all the way through, we can detonate something covertly above this gate to block off that major reinforcement route."  
  
Claude stared between the two. Eyes growing wide, he cackled. "That would be a _massive_ win. Hey. Have I told you that I love you lately?"  
  
She smiled as he took her face in his hands. "I don't know, it's been a whole two hours."  
  
"I love you. A lot." He kissed her. Then again. And again. And—  
  
Byleth tackled Claude into the blankets on the floor.  
  
Hands flat on his chest, she sank onto the full length of him in one quick slide. That delayed wave of pleasure was nearly enough to make her break then as Claude's floundering turned into a whole-body shudder and his surprised grunt became an open-mouthed groan. She was already grinding on him, her blood buzzing from the discovery and a surge of affection, when she said, "Ah—we can go back on the bed—"  
  
"No—_fuck_—_do whatever you want—_"  
  
She rolled her hips and fit him deeper, head falling back with a sharp gasp as Claude thrust up in rhythm. All the teasing had made them both impatient, and there was something delicious about how quickly they got here, how quickly it was going to be over because they couldn't help themselves_—_but good gods, would it be a good time; hopefully no one was walking by the room now. She pulled him up by that stretched-thin collar into a sitting position. Rucking up her blouse to bury his face in her, he dragged a tongue along her bare skin, over the peaks of her breasts as she muffled a cry against the side of his head.  
  
"Gods, _goddess_, blessed stars above," he murmured, tugging her hair back to expose her throat to his mouth. Increasing the urgency, one hand as leverage, the other dropping down to clutch a fistful of her ass. His gaze was nothing but dark and his winking grin was sly as always, as ever—but only, truly hers.

The cold was forgotten; so was the hard floor underneath. Her nails bit into his scalp, his guttural sounds sending her so, _so_ close._"__Claude."_  
  
He angled himself upwards and the slight shift made Byleth lurch forward, gasping. He knew what she liked too well, and in the heat of things, it was a toss-up as to who could maintain better control; she was losing then_—_gladly_—_as she ground against him and pressed against that spot, hurtling past the point of no return, but he couldn't have been far behind. Legs splayed and shaking, she bit down on his shoulder as she came.  
  
"By—" Shuddering into her neck, Claude finished with a jerk of his hips.  
  
They collapsed into the rumpled pile of blankets, sticky and panting. Byleth was deadweight in seconds. Burrowing into his chest, she had no plans to move ever again, and a laugh rumbled beneath her.  
  
"We'll figure out the rest tomorrow, then?" Calloused fingers combed through her hair. "I'm feeling optimistic."  
  
"Mmm," was all she could say. Strategy, among other things, took a lot out of her.  
  
"Wanna go back to the bed now?"  
  
"You'll have to carry me."  
  
It took a few minutes before he had the strength, but then Claude did, with all the grace of a prince. Papers crunched and vials clinked as he laid next to her. Byleth was pretty sure there were two more books under his pillow. The blanket also probably needed a thorough washing, but all that was a worry for a different hour. They got enough done for the night.  
  
"G'night," Claude mumbled.  
  
"Goodnight." His heartbeat steady at her back, Byleth fell fast asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> fyi: i caved and made a fandom twitter [@bylass_](https://twitter.com/bylass_)


End file.
